Survive or Die

by Catherine Dilts

  “Did I tell you about the time a bear broke into my garage?” Berdie asked loudly.

  “Yeah,” Rankin said. “About five times. Deal.”

  Berdie slapped cards onto the table while telling the story of the bear. Sotheara was really curious whether it ended with a bloody machete and a bear rug on her living room floor. Then she realized Berdie was purposefully distracting everyone.

  Sotheara looked down the hallway just in time to see someone in a green hoodie slip inside a room. Aubrey was on the move.

  Madison burst into a tune from the musical Cats. Berdie joined in, neither her lyrics nor her tune matching Madison’s. Sotheara did her part, refreshing daiquiri glasses. She set the popcorn on the coffee table, then plopped down on the sofa beside Irena.

  The action was intensifying. The movie wasn’t too bad, either.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Aubrey felt vulnerable as she searched, fearing that time was her enemy. The address labels on the body-building magazines named Doug Bender as the recipient. She discovered Doug wore briefs, not boxers. He had a prescription for hair growth medication. She checked every drawer, under the bed, and in the closet, but found no camera bag or epinephrine injector.

  Doug was blessed with more blankets than he needed. Aubrey nabbed a couple off his closet shelf and added them to her stack. Pressing her ear to the door, she could hear the card game getting lively. Madison had stopped singing. Doug accused Berdie of cheating. Voices raised in anger. Hopefully not loud enough to rouse Bender. It would be truly inconvenient if he were to step into the hallway at the same time as Aubrey.

  She opened the door a crack and peeked out. Berdie gestured with her hand. Hurry up, or be quiet, or hide, Aubrey couldn’t tell. She hugged the stack of plaid blankets and slipped into the hallway.

  “No, no, no.” Berdie shook her head. “One more game. Come on, guys.”

  “I’ve had enough.” Rankin slapped his cards onto the table. “You wouldn’t get away with playing like this in the Old West. Someone would have pulled out a gun and shot you.”

  Like the gun they all knew Rankin carried, after the unfortunate archery incident. Aubrey hesitated in the brief silence. As voices erupted in accusation and defense, she darted down the hall and slipped inside Stewart and Nel’s room. Just as she closed the door, she heard a door bang open.

  “Would you idiots keep it down?” Bender yelled. “I’m trying to get some sleep.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Rankin said. “But there’s a card-cheater working for you.”

  “I didn’t cheat,” Berdie said. “You’re just lousy at Hearts.”

  “You’re playing Hearts?” Bender sounded disgusted. “Where’s Candace?”

  “Taking a nap,” Doug said.

  “Like she could sleep through the racket you’re making,” Bender said. “Rankin, fix me a whiskey sour.”

  Aubrey hurried through the obstacle course of clothes, a fallen chair, and an open suitcase. She leaned across the bed, unlatched the window, and flung it open. The wool blankets, three from Candace’s closet, plus the two she stole from Doug, were going with her. They didn’t need blankets. They had heat and a roof that didn’t leak.

  As Aubrey tossed them out the window, a tube tumbled from a folded blanket, bounced once on the mattress, and clattered across the wood floor. She froze. The card players argued as the movie reached a noisy climax. Maybe no one heard.

  Aubrey took two steps toward the epinephrine injector when she heard heavy footsteps creaking down the hallway. Then the footsteps stopped.

  Aubrey dropped to the floor and scrambled under the bed. The sheets and comforter were hanging half off the mattress, providing good cover, she hoped. She scooted back until her hand crunched down on a shard of broken glass. Aubrey bit her lip as the glass pierced her palm. The detritus of a shattered canning jar lay scattered under the bed, on top of a layer of dust bunnies.

  The door jerked open. Aubrey held her breath while Bender walked around. Hangers clacked as he nosed through the closet, then his feet turned toward the bed.

  Don’t look under the bed.

  Aubrey’s heart pounded against her ribs so hard it hurt. Disintegrating dust bunnies tickled her nose. She gagged on a suppressed sneeze. Aubrey peeked under the comforter, then closed her eyes, fearful that if she could see Bender’s slippers, somehow he could see her.

  “What the hell.”

  Aubrey dared peek. His stubby fingers grasped the epinephrine injector. His slippers shuffled closer to the bed. One foot lifted, disappearing from view. The springs creaked and sagged, squishing her. She heard the window slide shut. Then Bender left, slamming the door behind him.

  Jeremiah pulled his antique watch from an inside pocket of his slicker. Another minute or two, and he’d give up. Aubrey Sommers had been inside Brown Bear cabin for twelve minutes. The rain continued drizzling, and despite wool socks, his feet were cold.

  When blankets rained out a window, he decided to maintain his vigil. His patience was rewarded when Aubrey followed, rolling onto the ground like she’d been flung through the open window. Jeremiah started to head her way to offer assistance, but she scrambled to her feet.

  Miz Sommers grabbed the blankets and ran. Jeremiah wondered whether that was the reason she’d snuck into the cabin. But if she wanted blankets, why not just ask?

  Jeremiah followed, creeping through the woods parallel to her. The sound of his boots squishing on wet pine needles was muffled by the pattering rain. His stealth was unnecessary. The woman never glanced his way, ducking inside the tent without a backward glance.

  Jeremiah waited in a stand of aspens. Just when he decided the show was over, Bud emerged from a tear in the backside of the tent. The old wrangler snuck toward the locked shed. What was that all about?

  Jeremiah was tempted to call him out, but if he exposed Bud, he’d lose the chance to do his own survelliance. Jeremiah crept close to the tent, then peered through the gap. One cot occupied a small space blocked off with gray blankets. Judging from the shoes and clothing strewn about, this was where Rankin slept. Beyond that, presumably, was the women’s space.

  Had Bud been peeping at Aubrey? Disgusting.

  By the time her tent-mates returned, Aubrey’s heart rate had almost returned to normal.

  “What an adventure!” Madison said. “That was more intense than the challenges.”

  “Singing show tunes,” Berdie told Madison. “Nice touch.”

  Aubrey perched on the edge of her cot. She had shed her damp skulking-about-camp attire, and changed into dry clothes. With the addition of a plaid wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she was almost warm.

  “Did you find the camera bag?” Berdie asked.

  Aubrey shook her head, her teeth chattering too hard to talk. She was cold to the bone.

  “Hey, where did these come from?” Madison picked up a blanket.

  “I s-stole them.” Aubrey held out a blanket to Sotheara. “We should be w-warmer tonight.”

  “Nice.” Madison wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and sat on her cot.

  “Looks like you’ve got a touch of hypothermia.” Berdie nodded. “That can kill you. We need to get you warmed up.”

  “What happened to your hand?” Sotheara asked.

  Blood had already soaked through the wadded tissues Aubrey clutched in the palm of her right fist. She explained about the broken canning jar under the bed in Stewart and Nel’s room.

  While Sotheara fetched water and Berdie lit her propane stove, Madison opened her first aid kit. She cleaned and medicated Aubrey’s wound, then rolled gauze around her hand a dozen times, creating a puffy white mitten. Added to the bandage on her left hand, Aubrey looked like she’d survived a battle. When the women held steaming mugs of tea, and Aubrey munched on one of Madison’s energy bars because she’d missed out on the fabulous
snacks the other women had enjoyed in Brown Bear cabin, Aubrey filled them in on the results of her spying.

  “I found Stewart’s epinephrine injector.”

  “Where?” Berdie asked.

  Aubrey shook her head. “It fell out of the blankets.” She explained how she had taken blankets from both Candace’s and Doug’s closets. “All I know is the injector wasn’t in Stewart and Nel’s room. I didn’t take any blankets from there.”

  “Was it used?” Berdie asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s easy to tell.” Berdie held out a hand. “Let’s take a look.”

  “I don’t have it. Bender picked it up. He didn’t say anything about it?”

  “No,” Madison said. “That’s strange, don’t you think?”

  “We left Brown Bear as soon as Madison received the text message you were back here,” Sotheara said.

  “What else did you learn?” Berdie asked. “The clues could be subtle. Other than an epinephrine injector hidden in a closet, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

  Aubrey considered the discovery of hair growth medication in Doug Bender’s room, and the dominatrix costume in Candace Milbank’s underwear drawer. Difficult though it was, she withheld the juicy bits of gossip. It was one thing to spy on her husband’s coworkers. It was another matter entirely to be catty about what she’d learned.

  “Nothing pertinent to Stewart’s death.” Aubrey sipped the steaming tea.

  “Some of our coworkers are way different in the woods,” Sotheara said. “And others look and act just like another day in the office.”

  Says the woman who went from powersuits to nature child.

  “The question is,” Berdie asked, “are they in costume in the office, or in the woods? Jack Bender looks like an ass in his safari get-up. Jeremiah Jones appears to be in his natural state.”

  “That was a shocker,” Madison said. “Jeremiah looks weird at the factory, but in his cowboy outfit, he’s almost cute. I have a thing about mustaches, and his is amazing.”

  Sotheara wrinkled her nose. “Eww. How can you say that?” She hopped off her cot and peeked out the tent flap. “At least the weather’s clearing up.”

  As if in answer, the clouds opened up, dropping sheets of rain on the tent. A dribble of water spilled through a new hole in the ceiling, expanding the puddle on the dirt floor.

  “The campfire isn’t going to be pleasant tonight,” Madison said.

  “Rowdy’s wranglers are putting up a canopy,” Sotheara said. “Maybe we should move our cots out there.”

  “Too out in the open,” Berdie said. “We need as much shelter as we can get.”

  A drip of rainwater splatted on Aubrey’s head. “Like this tent is providing shelter?”

  “I didn’t mean from the rain,” Berdie said. “There’s something funny about Stewart’s death. Your exploration of Brown Bear cabin proves it. There’s a murderer in Survive or Die camp.”

  Aubrey shuddered as thunder boomed across the camp.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jeremiah smoothed his mustache. So Madison the IT nerd thought he was cute. She didn’t give him a second glance at work, in his mechanic’s uniform of gray shirt and slacks, and Frankenstein steel-toed work boots. She looked different, too, in feminine blouses and short pants that hit her mid-calf. In the Old West, a man wanted a woman with some meat on her bones. The skinny types wouldn’t have lasted the winter.

  As Jeremiah headed to the campfire circle in a round about way to cover his tracks, he considered what he had learned. Stockton’s revenge had hunted for Stewart Neamly’s camera bag, but all Aubrey Sommers had found was a broken canning jar and a hidden epinephrine injector. The poor sap had been murdered. Death by honeybee.

  Was Bud a peeper? Or had the wrangler been spying on Stockton’s Revenge? What was up with the locked meat storage shed? Did it have anything to do with Stewart’s death?

  The rain stopped abruptly, and mist steamed from the earth. Rowdy clanged the triangle, drawing drowsy-looking campers to the fire circle.

  “I thought sure we were gonna have to cancel the next challenge,” Rowdy said, “but Mother Nature decided to give us a shot at it after all. That’s Colorado weather for you. It changes from one minute to the next.”

  “Do we have time for another challenge?” Omari asked.

  “Well heck Pastor, it’s summer. The sun won’t be down for hours. What do you say?” He went into television host mode, sweeping his eyes across the crowd. He hooked his thumbs into the top of his chaps, his belly bulging over his tooled leather belt. “Should we take a vote? Who wants to tackle another challenge?”

  The athletic folks cheered. They were in the minority, but they were louder.

  “So much for democracy,” Madison muttered.

  “We rocked the third challenge,” Sotheara said, in apparent forgetfulness of the reality of coming in third. “This time we’ll win a treasure chest key for sure.”

  Grant waved at Aubrey across the campfire circle. He pointed at one hand with his other, and shrugged. Aubrey waved back with her newly bandaged hand. If he wanted to know whether she was suffering, he could darn well walk around the campfire and ask.

  He did. Which meant Aubrey had to scramble to come up with a good excuse for her injury without revealing her team’s afternoon of spying on Brown Bear cabin.

  “Honey,” Grant asked, “are you okay?”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks. Madison got carried away with the first aid supplies.”

  “Let’s go to the clinic.” Grant placed a hand on her elbow, preparing to steer her away from the campfire. A pink sunburn showed on the parts of his face not shaded by his newly sprouting whiskers.

  “Rowdy’s announcing the next challenge. We can go after that.”

  “I hope ya’ll brought your driver’s licenses,” Rowdy said, “because we’re having a race.”

  When their camp host described the ATV obstacle course, some of the happy warriors melted into complaints.

  “How’s that any different from this morning’s challenge?” Ted asked. “It sounds just like the canoe slalom, but on land.”

  “The rain changed our plans,” Rowdy said. “And that’s part of survival. I wrote about it in Chapter One of my book, Twelve Tips for Survival, available in the gift shop. You’ve got to roll with the punches.” He jabbed his fists in the air in imitation of a boxer’s moves.

  Grant seemed to forget about Aubrey’s hand at the mention of All Terrain Vehicles. Her husband was rekindling the little boy spark in his heart. Campers trooped over to the archery range, sneakers and hiking boots sucking through the mud. A roar pierced the quiet meadow as wranglers rode ATVs onto the field.

  There was not enough time for everyone to participate in the challenge before nightfall. Each team picked two members to represent them. Aubrey’s family rented ATVs every summer for an adventure in the mountains. She was chosen from Stockton’s Revenge. Sotheara offered to ride, surprising Aubrey. Hardcore environmentalists typically turned up their noses at the noisy machines. Perhaps the accountant wanted to atone for her refusal to shoot an arrow at a plastic deer in yesterday’s challenge.

  Winning required the least deductions for errors such as knocking down markers, combined with the fastest time. The course was saturated with rain water, and the same PVC pipes cemented into cans had been placed around the pasture, making it nearly identical to the canoe slalom, as Ted had observed. A short bridge arched over nothing in particular. A series of low hills provided a thrill for those brave enough to speed over them, catching air until they thudded safely to earth again on fat nubbly tires. Part of the course traversed a swampy area.

  When it was the Wapiti team’s turn, Grant pulled on a helmet with a face guard, but Aubrey could imagine his grin. He raced through the course like a pro. Pausing
at the beginning of the swampy stretch, he put his ATV in reverse, backed up, revved the engine, then roared forward.

  Aubrey held her breath as his tires sent arching sprays of mud and water into the air. The ATV fishtailed left, then right, but Grant stayed on course. He emerged on the other side, swung around in a skittering turn he called drifting, and roared across the finish line. Mud splattered his chartreuse Survive or Die T-shirt and canvas hiking slacks. Aubrey could not conceal her happiness from her team as Bud scribbled Grant’s time onto the scoreboard.

  Veronica went next, which surprised Aubrey. She would have thought Frank, a self-proclaimed expert in everything outdoors, would ride for the Wapiti team. Veronica charged through the gates too fast, knocking down several poles, but she made it over the bridge and through the swamp. When she crossed the finish line, she yanked her helmet off and shook out her hair, then gave Grant a busty hug, pressing her mud-splattered team shirt against his.

  “What a tramp,” Madison whispered.

  Aubrey raised clenched fists. Not a threatening gesture with her hands wrapped in puffy gauze. She started to intervene, but Berdie grabbed her arm.

  “Grant is a big boy. He can handle himself. Give him a chance.”

  Aubrey was about to tell Berdie to mind her own business, when Grant had the good sense to back away from Veronica quickly. She looked disappointed, and he looked embarrassed.

  Even a good guy could fail, if temptation was constantly in his face. And they shared a cabin. Aubrey wondered how Miss Veronica shampoo-model acted when there were fewer people watching.

  Roberto was up next, dashing in his purple team T-shirt. He represented Bender’s team well, and then Doug completed the course.

  “Neither was as fast as Grant.” Madison studied her phone’s stopwatch app.

  Shawn rode for the Old Biddie Brigade. He made it through the course unscathed. His teammate Jessie went next, her pink T-shirt hanging loosely on her gaunt frame. She edged above him in time, but knocked over a gate. Grant was still number one.